


Merry Mayhem

by HarleyMarie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Nordics, Super Secret Mission, WhAT dO tHEy wAnt WItH HiM, Where did this crazy briefcase come from?, Who sent it?, repost from ff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:03:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5499845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarleyMarie/pseuds/HarleyMarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With only a few days before Christmas, Mathias was admittedly stressed. What he didn't need was for a stranger to handcuff a briefcase to his wrist without any explanation. One shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Mayhem

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone!  
> This is kind of a blend between fluff and crack and Christmas. Honestly I'm not sure what to make of it, but it was fun to write. I hope it makes you laugh reading it as much as it made me laugh writing it.  
> I hope you have a wonderful Christmas and a fantabulous new year!

Mathias checked his watch for the third time. The train was late, which was making him even more late than he normally was, which in turn was really starting to tick him off. Normally he would just take it all in stride with a smile, but not today. He had a thousand and one things to do before his head hit the pillow tonight, and he knew that no human could possibly get to them all. The season wasn’t helping either. He loved Christmas more than any other holiday in the year, but he was right smack-dab in the middle of the most stressful part of the season for him. Work was hellish, people who should be filled with the Christmas Spirit were more like Ebenezer Scrooge, and he was currently freezing his butt off on this subway platform. And the stupid train was late. 

Mathias rolled his eyes and rubbed his gloved hands together to try and get some feeling back in them. He sighed and started to tap his foot impatiently against the concrete floor of the platform. 

Someone walked up from further down the platform to stand next to Mathias’ left shoulder. Mathias turned to glance at the stranger and lend him a smile. The man, dressed in a long dark coat and hat that was pulled low over his ears, glanced back at him but didn’t return the smile. Mathias raised his eyebrows and turned back to looking at the still empty tracks.  _ Something’s stuck up his butt,  _ he thought. 

“Train’s taking its own sweet time today, isn’t it?” Mathias remarked casually to the man beside him. The man didn’t attempt to reply, or even to respond at all. Such a trivial fact couldn’t stop the always-smiling Dane though. 

“Are you on your way home now?” Mathias tried again. The man next to him grunted and shifted a black briefcase to his right hand and looked over his shoulder at the people gathered on the platform behind them. 

“Okay,” Mathias muttered under his breath. Obviously this guy was in no mood to talk, but he had done his best, right? 

A loud rumbling sounded from down the tracks signaling that the train was finally drawing close. A second later, the lights from the train’s headlights came into view. 

“About time,” Mathias said. “I’m a hundred years old!” He laughed to himself and ran a glove through his hair as he bumped his backpack higher up onto his back. People began to press on him from every side as they gathered to board the train. “Nice to meet you,” he said to the stranger beside of him, but when he turned to face the man, the stranger grabbed onto his wrist and slapped the clasp of a set of metal handcuffs onto his wrist, which were connected to the black briefcase that he had been holding. The man in black shoved a cell phone into Mathias’ hands, muttered a rushed, “I’m sorry,” and disappeared into the horde of people on the platform. Before Mathias could manage a word in edgewise, the man was gone. 

“H-Hey mister!” Mathias called out into the sea of humanity, “What on earth–”

As the train thundered past him, his words were drowned out by shrieks that came from down the platform. He caught fragments of sentences that were screamed over the racket of the train. “He jumped off… The train hit him… I think I saw someone push him… Who was it… Some guy in a black coat… There’s so much blood… Someone call the police…”

Mathias’ breath caught in his throat.  _ This can’t… This can’t really be happening… _

He looked down at the briefcase handcuffed to his left wrist, and the black Nokia cell phone clutched in his right fist.

He had to get out of here. Whatever crazy thing was going on right now, he didn’t want any part of it.

Mathias stuffed the phone into his coat pocket and stuffed the briefcase under his arm the best that he could. He shouldered his way through the crowd, most of which was now trying to gather down the platform nearest to where the man went under the train’s wheels. He tried his best to look as much like an innocent bystander as he could, despite the fact that he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he wasn’t so innocent anymore. The phone burned hot in his pocket and the briefcase weighed heavy as a millstone under his arm as he climbed the stone stairs until he reached the open New York City street above. Snowflakes swirled in the air and dusted his gravity-defying blond hair and eyelashes as he quickly walked down the sidewalk in the general direction of his apartment, which was twenty blocks away in Hell’s Kitchen. He quickly glanced behind him and, once satisfied that no one from the subway had followed him up, he fished his cell phone from his back pocket and selected the first contact in his list. He lifted the phone up to his ear and tried to tune out the hustle and bustle of holiday traffic as he listened to the phone ring once, twice, three times before the other end was picked up. 

“You’d better have a good reason to be calling me right now, you know I’ve got a deadline.”

His words tumbled out of his mouth in a hurried and jumbled mess. “Lukas, if you ever loved me, you would meet me at my apartment in a half hour.”

“Mathias, are you deaf? My paper has to be done by Friday, and the more time I spend talking to you, the less time I spend writing, and the less time I spend writing, the more likely I am to be out of a job, and you know that a masters in Viking and Old Norse Studies doesn’t exactly have the most accepting career field.” Something that sounded like papers rustling could be heard over the other line, and Mathias knew that Lukas had just thrown a stack of research over the speaker of his desk phone.

“Lukas, please, I need you to come over. I’ll explain when you get here.”

“No, I’m not going to drop everything just because you’ve discovered some new way to jump onto your neighbor’s wifi connection or because you’ve blown up your stove again–”

“I think I may have killed someone.”

The line went silent. Mathias kept walking as quickly down the sidewalk as he could without looking out of place, and he waited for a response. A few tense seconds passed, and Mathias started to worry. Eventually, there was a sound like that of a door being shut, the papers over the speaker rustled again, and there was a click as Lukas turned the speakerphone off and switched to the handheld receiver. Mathias waited for Lukas to say something, but the Norwegian remained unmoved. 

He couldn’t take the the silence anymore. “Lukas, talk to me,” he said. 

The man on the other line took a breath before speaking. When he did, his voice was low and raspy, like he was trying to keep himself from being overheard. “Please tell me that I heard you wrong.”

Mathias shook his head and readjusted the position of the briefcase under his arm. The handcuffs were digging uncomfortably into the skin of his wrist, and he really wanted to put his freezing hand into his pocket to try and warm it up. “I’m afraid you didn’t. That’s why I need you to meet me at my apartment as soon as you can. I don’t know what to do and I need your help.”

Mathias could hear the creak of Lukas’ chair as he leaned back in it and sighed. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. When you get to your apartment, lock the door and don’t let anyone in but me, is that clear?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Mathias replied. 

Lukas was quiet for a moment before he continued. “Listen, I’m calling Emil, Berwald, and Tino and seeing if they can meet us at your place. The more people we have trying to figure this thing out, the better.”

“Okay, just hurry.”

“I will. Remember, lock the door and don’t let anyone in but us.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Mathias heard Lukas’ sigh on the other end of the line. “Alright, I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Lukas.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Lukas said before hanging up the phone. Mathias pursed his lips together and slipped his phone into his pocket. The blinking crosswalk signal changed to red, and Mathias jogged across the street as quickly as he could, dodging a snow-covered taxicab that honked at him as it passed immediately behind him. He called out a half-hearted “Sorry!” that he didn’t even mean before he vaulted over a frozen spot on the concrete. The briefcase bumped against his ribs uncomfortably with every frenzied step.

-x-x-x-

“Hold on, this doesn’t make sense. Start over. You were in the subway, when this guy cuffed the briefcase to you and jumped in front of the train?” Lukas asked.

“No, well, yes, I don’t know… Ugh,” Mathias’s head slammed onto the kitchen table in frustration. Lukas, Tino, Emil, and Berwald sat crowded around the table on various articles of furniture from all around the apartment. Lukas managed to grab the only other chair in the kitchen, as Mathias was already sitting in one when he got there. Emil got ahold of an overstuffed chair, Tino got an ottoman from the living room, and Berwald’s hulking frame was left to sit on a neon green beanbag. He was less than pleased, but his face was as solid as ever.

“Do you at least know what’s in the briefcase?” Emil asked from where he was curled up in the chair across the table. Mathias shook his head, not even bothering to raise it from the table. “What the phone’s for?” Again, Mathias shook his head. “Why he ended up a pancake?” Mathias shook his head again. No one could think of an answer to any of the questions that needed answering, or anything to say for that matter, so Mathias filled the silence in the apartment with the sound of his skull pounding against the wood of the tabletop, along with a deep groan. 

Lukas waited about ten seconds before he reached over and shoved Mathias’ head off the table. “Hey,” he snapped, “Why don’t you shut up. I can’t think with you doing your best impression of an annoying turd.” 

Mathias sat up, shot Lukas the most pitiful puppy-dog-eyed look he could, then rested his chin on the edge of the table. He stared forward at the silent cell phone that had been placed carefully in the middle of the table and at the briefcase that was still cuffed to his wrist. “So what should we do now?”

No one said anything for the longest time, until Lukas pushed his chair back and stood up. “What are you doing?” Tino asked. Lukas disappeared into the kitchen, then reappeared shortly with a meat cleaver in his right hand. 

Mathias about fell out of his chair and onto the floor when he laid eyes on what was in Lukas’ hand. Everyone else had the same reaction, except Berwald, whose eyes only got wider. 

“What on earth do you think you’re doing!” Mathias yelled.

“Getting that briefcase off of you, what does it look like?” Lukas replied calmly. He stepped forward and made as if he were trying to grab at the briefcase. 

Mathias, however, was much too quick. He already had slipped out of his chair and scuttled backward across the room. He held the briefcase to his chest as if he were holding onto life itself. Which, in reality, he kind of was.

“Hey, Norman Bates,” Emil cried out, “How about you put that knife down and we try something a little bit less drastic that doesn’t have anything to do with the possibility of any limbs being lost, alright?”

Lukas rolled his eyes and put his hands up in surrender. “Whatever, just trying to make this move a little faster is all.”

“Geez, Luk…” Mathias whined as he climbed back into his chair, but only after Lukas replaced the knife in the kitchen, far out of reach.

“Can we grease your hand up with some butter or something?” Tino asked. 

Berwald frowned. “I don’t know, those handcuffs look pretty tight on you. It’s worth a try though. And there are no sharp objects involved.”

Lukas glared at Berwald and retrieved a stick of butter from the fridge and tossed it to Mathias. “Knock yourself out,” he growled as he eased himself back into his chair.

-x-x-x-

It took nearly fifteen minutes of rubbing butter on Mathias’ wrist, twisting and pulling on the handcuffs that resorted to frantic yanking and a nearly dislocated thumb, and assorted yelps and curses before Mathias was free. 

The second his hand slipped out of the metal ring, he lifted his fist high over his head and hollered as loudly as he could. His smile was wide enough to see nearly every tooth in his head. 

Berwald, who had been doing most of the manipulating of the handcuffs and briefcase, slid back in his chair and sighed, thoroughly exhausted. One thing was out of the way, so now the five of them could concentrate on the phone and what exactly was  _ inside  _ of the briefcase that he had just pried off of Mathias.

“Now let’s get a look at this thing,” Tino said as he drew the black briefcase across the table toward himself. He picked it up, turned it around, scrutinized every inch of it. He tried to pry the lid open with his fingernails, then he fished a pocket knife from his pocket and tried again, but when that failed, he started to poke at the numbers on the combination lock in random order to try and get the right set of numbers. With each attempt, however, the briefcase beeped its rejection.

Tino shoved the briefcase back to the middle of the table. “Anyone else want to try?”

Emil gestured for the black case, but quickly flung it back after being met with only loud and angry beeping. “Forget it,” he grumbled. “This is impossible.”

“Then maybe we should try to take it apart?” Lukas offered. Berwald raised his eyebrows and stood up from the table to retrieve Mathias’ toolbox from the abyss that was his hall closet. “Honestly, how can you ever find anything in here?” he called out from inside the closet. Boxes of random holiday decorations spilled out into the hallway along with miscellaneous kitchen appliances that had never been used. Something smashed to the ground and, when everyone called to ask what happened, Berwald yelled, “I’m okay, I’m okay, something fell. Wait, what the heck is–Mathias! Why on earth do you have an ax in your closet?”

Eventually, Berwald was able to unearth the missing toolbox, and he quickly set to work at trying to take the briefcase apart. The rest of the guys watched eagerly as the Swede’s hands flew between tools and his brow furrowed in concentration. As time went on, Berwald started to get visibly frustrated at his lack of progress, and the others began to get restless. Eventually, Tino went to the kitchen and returned with half of a six-pack of beer and a handful of juice boxes. “You know you need to go shopping when all you have in the fridge is beer, juice boxes, that God-forsaken cheese in a can, and something that looks like leftover phad Thai,” he said to Mathias. “Seriously, get some danged groceries before you starve to death.”

Mathias pretended not to notice Tino’s mothering. He casually snatched up a juice box and slid it down the table to Emil, who glared at him. “Mat, I turned 21 nearly a year ago.”

Mathias grinned back at Emil and stabbed a straw through his own juice box. “Well to me you’ll always be my little bro. Besides, sometimes I prefer the juice boxes. I did buy these myself.”

Emil rolled his eyes, but he still ripped his straw open, stuck it in the box, and started to slurp. Everyone’s attention returned to Berwald.

“Hey Berwald, maybe you should take a break,” Lukas suggested a while later when there was still no progress made. He slowly reached across the table and took the screwdriver out of the Swede’s hand. “Why don’t we concentrate on the cell phone?”

“Good idea,” Tino said. He picked up the small plastic flip phone and turned it over in his hand. “I haven’t seen one of these in a while,” he remarked. 

Emil snatched the phone out of Tino’s hand to check it out himself. “It looks like one of those phones from the cop shows on tv. You know, the kind that the bad guys use?”

“Burn phones?” Lukas prompted.

“Yeah, that’s what they’re called. You can’t trace them, so taking it to the cops wouldn’t really help.”

“I don’t think they would believe me even if I tried to explain everything to them. They’d probably just have me committed,” Mathias whined. He took the phone from Emil and held it up to the light. 

“O Mysterious Burn Phone, I entreat you: Reveal your secrets!”

Immediately the cell phone rang.

Everyone at the table screamed. Mathias flung the phone away like it was a massive cockroach and fell out of his chair. Tino jumped onto Berwald and clung to him like a koala. Emil threw his juicebox across the room and grabbed Lukas’ jacket and dragged him practically into his lap. All of this happened within a span of three seconds. Once the cell phone rang for the second time, everyone’s mind had the same thought at the exact same time:

“Answer it!”

Then, it all unraveled into chaos.

“Where did it go?” 

“Get it before it stops ringing!”

“Did it slide into the kitchen?”

“Ow, you stepped on my foot!”

“There it is! Wait no that’s–What on earth is that?”

“Does anyone know where the village idiot flung the stupid phone?”

“Everyone shut up, I can’t see with you all yelling in my ears!”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’ve got it!” Mathias finally shouted, the phone held up high in a fist of victory. The others instantly fell silent when he emerged from under the sofa in the living room and flipped the phone open.

He waited a moment before saying a cautious, “Hello?” into the receiver.

“Mathias Køhler. I see that you’ve received the package,” the voice on the other end said.

“Well if by ‘received’ you mean some stranger handcuffed this briefcase to my wrist before jumping in front of a train, then yes, I have.”

Lukas glared at Mathias.  _ Now is not the time for sarcasm,  _ he mouthed. Mathias paid him no mind.

“Yes, I was afraid that you saw that, and I must apologize for it. That is no way to be introduced to this business. I assure you that we do not operate in that fashion. That was the handiwork of our rivals, I’m afraid.”

“H-hang on,” Mathias stuttered. He stood up and started to pace the length of his apartment. The others watched from their various positions across the apartment, eyes glued to the Dane as he spoke. “What’s all this about a business? Rivals? A-and who was the man that was killed today? And how the heck do you know my name? Who are you people? Are you the government? FBI? CIA? KGB? Illuminati?”

The man on the other end of the line started to laugh. “You have quite a lot of questions! I honestly don’t blame you, but all of these questions will be answered in time. I see that you and your friends have been unsuccessful in your endeavors to open the briefcase.”

Mathias clenched his jaw. “They’re not my friends.” He looked over at the group of guys who had all convened on his couch to listen. “They’re my family.”

“My apologies for the confusion,” the voice said.

“Thanks. But no, we haven’t gotten it open.”

“Enter the following into the keypad–”

Mathias sprinted into the kitchen and yanked a drawer open. He nearly shoved half of its contents onto the floor before getting his hands on a pen. He ripped the cap off and scribbled something onto his palm.

“Everything that you need to know is inside,” the voice said. “We will not contact you at his number again. Be sure to dispose of this phone appropriately.”

“Yeah, okay… Wait!”

“Yes, Mr. Køhler?”

“At least tell me his name. The man that died today.”

The voice paused before it responded.

“Randolph. Damon Randolph.”

Mathias pursed his lips and nodded. “Thank you.”

“No, thank  _ you _ , Mr. Køhler. You don’t know it yet, but you are a very important man.”

Mathias was about to ask what on earth he had done to warrant being important, but the line was already dead.

“Okay then,” he whispered as he flipped the phone shut with a satisfying  _ slap _ . “I forgot how much I liked that sound,” he giggled to himself. Suddenly he found himself surrounded by bodies, and every one of them were asking about the phone call. 

“Who was that on the phone?” 

“What’s on your hand?” 

“Was it some secret government agency?” 

“Was it the Illuminati? It’s totally the Illuminati. I told you it was real!” 

“Ow! What’d you punch me for?” 

“For doubting the existence of Order. That briefcase holds the answer to who killed JFK, you mark my words.” 

“You are seriously the dumbest person I’ve ever met, not including Mat of course.”

“Shun the nonbeliever!”

“You are an idiot.”

The group moved to the table and all gathered around Mathias and the briefcase, all while Emil hummed the X-Files theme song and Lukas rolled his eyes at him.

“Alright, here goes nothing,” Mathias sighed. He looked at his palm, then at the keypad on the briefcase. He took a deep breath and started to mash the buttons in the order that he was told. 

A moment later, the briefcase beeped three times, then clicked open.

There was a small collective gasp, then silence as Mathias lifted the lid.

Inside of the velvet lined space was a single file. On it was stamped in large red letters, ‘TOP SECRET’. 

Mathias lifted the file out of the briefcase and set it on the table. For a while, they all just stared at it like it was a bomb that could explode any second. Then Berwald broke the silence. 

“Just… Do it quick. Like a bandaid.”

“Okay. Yeah. Like a bandaid.”

He waited about ten seconds before he reached out and flipped the file open. The eyes of everyone gathered around the table grew to be the size of saucers as they crowded even closer to see what was in the file. 

As he speedily flipped through the papers inside, Mathias’ face morphed from curiosity to confusion to anger. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” he growled.

“What is it?” the others all asked. 

Mathias slammed the papers down on the table, startling everyone with the sudden outburst so much that they all jumped. 

“That guy died for a freaking cookie recipe!”

The others’ heads all whipped toward Mathias.

“He died for  _ what? _ ”

-x-x-x-

Mathias paced in front of his family, who were all lined up shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen. He looked like a battle-hardened general ready to lead his men into battle. He smacked a wooden spoon against his open palm with every step. 

“Utensils!”

Emil stuck his arms out in front of him. They were ladened with a pile of large bowls of all different colors and patterns that rested on a stack of baking sheets. Inside of them were random measuring cups, measuring spoons, and even a hand mixer. “Check!” Emil gave Mathias a stiff salute and barely kept his sniggers at bay.

Mathias turned to look at the mismatched assembly of kitchenwares and nodded. “Good.” He saw the salute, rolled his eyes, and took a step forward. “Ingredients!”

Berwald and Tino held out bags and boxes and bottles of every ingredient that the recipe called for. Flour, white sugar, brown sugar, vanilla, chocolate chips, salt, butter, eggs, and baking soda. They had all run out to the grocery store and bought every last bag and box of the ingredients that they needed. When they checked out with the cashier, there were more than a few strange looks in their direction. Considering they bought the industrial size of everything, it’s no wonder. “Check!” they both called out.

Mathias checked what they held against the recipe in his hand. “That’s everything.” He nodded toward Berwald and Tino before he stepped off again. “Oven!”

Lukas reached over and yanked the oven door wide open. It crashed down against its hinges with a loud enough noise to make all five of the men jump. Lukas glanced over at the tiny oven and shrugged his shoulders. “So um… Yeah. We have an oven.”

Mathias waited, one eyebrow arched in anticipation.

Lukas sighed. “Check or whatever.”

Mathias gave Lukas a sharp nod and then spun on his heel toward the counter. His face was hard and determined. His eyes drifted over to where the recipe lay in the afternoon sunlight that streamed in through the window. When he spoke, he nearly snarled.

“Let’s do this thing.”

-x-x-x-

“I hate you so much right now.”

“I second that statement.”

“Mhm.”

“I’ve never been more frustrated in my life.”

Lukas repeatedly slammed his forehead into a pile of flour where he sat at the table. 

Emil sat on the counter hopelessly guzzling a bottle of beer that he had gotten Tino to pick up from the grocery store. 

Berwald sat on the floor against the cabinets, staring blankly at the wall. 

Tino had managed to get his hands on a box of candy canes at the store and was now standing in front of the window with three of them crammed into his mouth. 

Mathias stood on a chair and frantically fanned a newspaper at the smoke detector. “Shut up, shut up, shut up! There’s no fire, small screaming box, so just shut up!”

Lukas raised his floury head from the table. “Mathias, this is hopeless, can’t you see? We’ve been at this for hours and haven’t managed to get a single batch right. Why don’t you just–”

“I’m not giving up, if that’s what you were going to say.” The smoke detector stopped its blaring and Mathias sighed. He climbed down from the chair and faced Lukas. “Somebody actually died for this. I’m not giving up until I get this right. I don’t care if it takes me a thousand batches, I’m getting this right.” While he spoke, he strode to the counter and started cracking more eggs into a semi-clean bowl. 

Lukas shook his head and sighed. “Your stubbornness is going to be the death of us all.” Despite his exhaustion, he still pushed his chair back and got up to help with the next batch. Mathias didn’t even try to hide his smile.

-x-x-x-

Late that night, Mathias stood in his kitchen with an apron embossed with the image of the Danish flag on it tied around his waist. Flour dusted his face and hair like snowflakes. He and the other guys had been at this for hours, but they had all slowly fallen asleep one by one.  _ I really should be asleep too, it’s nearly two o’clock in the morning,  _ he thought. But he just couldn’t let himself stop. He was so close, he just knew it. 

The papers in the file said that he was now in possession of the recipe for the greatest chocolate chip cookies in history. Mathias had to guard the recipe and protect it with his life, as he was now the rightful heir to a cookie fortune. He still wasn’t really clear on how he of all people had been chosen, but he was sort of okay being in the dark about it for now. It was all just so strange, this whole ordeal. A guy was shoved in front of a train by a rival cookie family for delivering the cookie recipe to the heir, which was him. People had actually died over this. Over cookies, of all things. But shouldn’t cookies be tied to better things, like happiness and hugs and things like that? Not murder?

The timer on the oven went off for what felt like the millionth time that night. The latest batch was done. For some reason, Mathias hadn’t been able to get a single batch right yet. It didn’t make any sense to him at all. He did what the recipe said every time, so why wasn’t it turning out the way that it should? He was so frustrated that he decided that this batch would be his last. 

Mathias slid his Christmas tree shaped oven mitts on and took the sheet of cookies out of the oven. He turned the oven off and eyed the cookies. They looked… Pretty perfect, actually. He nodded at his latest work, took off his oven mitts, then turned to grab his spatula from the counter. 

_ I’m just going to try one. If it’s anything like the other batches, then I’m just going to toss them and be done with this whole deal. _

He got a cookie off the sheet and plopped it in his palm. It was hot, so he juggled it between his hands until it was cool enough. He casually tossed the cookie into his mouth and started to chew. His eyes got wider and wider, and when he finally swallowed, he stood stock-still in front of his counter for a few minutes. 

Very slowly, he got another cookie from the sheet and walked to the living room. Dead asleep on the couch was Lukas, wrapped up in a blanket like a burrito. Mathias knelt down next to his head and tried to wake him up.

“Lukas.”

No response.

“Lukas, wake up.”

Still nothing. He shook Lukas’ shoulder and tried his name one more time.

“Lukas!”

A harsh growl came from Lukas’ bundled form. “Someone had better be dying, or the nuclear holocaust has started, or the world is ending, or Beyoncé released her next album early. If none of these things have happened then I am going to murder you.”

Mathias held out the cookie in his hand. “Eat this.”

Lukas cracked one eye open. “You have got to be kidding me right now.”

“I’m dead serious.”

Lukas just stared at Mathias.

“Lukas, eat this.”

Lukas stared at him a little longer, then with an eye roll and a sigh he opened his mouth. Mathias placed the cookie on his tongue and waited.

Lukas started to chew, but after a moment, his chewing slowed until it had nearly come to a stop. He slowly sat up, then turned to face Mathias.

“Mother of God…”

Mathias’ smile spread from ear to ear. Lukas’ own smile mirrored his. 

“Not bad, huh?”

Lukas started to laugh, a rare and wonderful experience. “No Mat, they’re not bad at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Reviews are awesome, just sayin'. Enjoy your holiday!


End file.
